Page 96 of The Crown of the Last Fae Queen
“Trust me when I say I remember every scathing remark I made,” he snarled with such vitriol that Kolfinna reeled back in her seat, her back pressing against the velvet cushions. It wasn’t like him to spew so much emotion into his usually level voice. For his composed mask to crack and reveal the beast that wanted to tear into something.
The sunlight draped over the marred bumps of his scar, seeming to bring it more to life, and his hand stretched to touch the harsh scarring, his lips twisting into disdain. At himself? Kolfinna wasn’t entirely sure, but she clamped her mouth shut. She almost hated how she had brought forth so much hurt with her simple question.
“I planned to leave for battle for the wretched crown—forElin.” He snapped her name with pure revulsion, and his fingers dug into his brawny biceps. He shifted his attention to the window, glaring at the glinting sunlight passing through the thick clouds. “Aesileif and I come from two different worlds. The elves are never seen as equals to the fae. Being a half-elf, I am an abomination. For me to pine after the princess of the fae?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Elin abhorred the idea of me being near her sister. Not out of love for Aesileif, but shame. She didn’t want the royal family associated with me in any way. She noticed the way I looked at her, and perhaps … she noticed the way Aesileif looked at me. She saw fit to rid her sister of me, and I naively believed her when she told me I was endangering Aesileif, that I was the root cause of her troubles.”
Kolfinna waited for him to continue his story, her attention raptly on him, but his silence stretched longer, thinning byhis shuddered, furious breaths. Slowly, his fury died away to embers, and he released a loose breath, his form losing some of its rigidity.
“It shames me how little confidence I had in myself back then. What little confidence I had in the … in the love we shared. That is what, I think, truly broke Aesileif’s heart that night, and I don’t think I ever—” He pursed his lips, and Kolfinna could see the shreds of vulnerability slipping through, before he snuffed it out. “She has, since, never believed me when I tell her that she is my priority. She believes I value duty and loyalty over love. Perhaps they all think it.”
“They all? Do you mean your people?”
He didn’t elaborate, and only stared off at the distance.
Kolfinna shifted in her seat uneasily. “Surely she doesn’t believe that? You have proven time and time again that you love her. Your scars prove?—”
“It’s not enough. In the end, I broke her trust that night. I should have fought for our love. Instead, I showed her that all it took to break it was a simple command from the crown princess. And once Aesileif took the throne that night? My willingness to remain by her side, to protect her, simply solidified the idea in her mind that I was only there because she was now the queen.” His fingers traced the rough edges of his scar. “She loathes to see my face now that I am scarred. It reminds her of that night.”
A quietness fell over them both. Vidar stood in what she could only imagine was misery and grief, the tension cording his body telling her that he was still trapped within that haunting memory. Kolfinna threaded her hands together on her lap, hating the raw emotions swelling in her chest for her father.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said. And she truly was.
29
TWENTY-NINE – KOLFINNA
Shortly after talking to Vidar,Kolfinna was escorted to her room. Hours passed in silence as she paced the space between her bed and the hearth over and over again until her legs trembled and her mind numbed with all her thinking. Even bathing, eating, and dozing off for a few minutes didn’t help the anxieties coiling deep within herself, strangling her with all their might.
Had she made the right decision? Was it in her best interests to free Aesileif? She had told Vidar she would help him, but did that mean she was cursing the entire human race by doing so? What if Aesileif was just as bad as the rumors said? What if everything she had seen was a lie after all? What if?—
Her mind ran in circles over thewhat ifs, and she couldn’t help escape the unfathomably pit of darkness that was slowly consuming her.
She was so pathetic, she thought. She couldn’t even choose a side and stick with it. How could she say she was on the humans’ side when she didn’t entirely believe that they would help the fae? And how could she help the fae if she didn’t align with them, either? How could she not simply pick which side to be with? Why was she so … conflicted?
She hated how small she felt in that moment. How her insecurities and her lack of decisiveness ripped a void of darkness within her mind and sank her deeper into its clutches.
Her fingernails dug into her palms as she walked toward the window, then to the hearth at one end of the room, and then back again. A soft knock on her bedroom door snapped her from her thoughts.
Half-expecting Astrid, she tentatively pulled the door open a crack and was ready to give an excuse as to why she couldn’t talk to her—a stomachache, or maybe a headache, or maybe she’d tell her she wasn’t feeling up to anything—only to find Blár standing in her antechamber. His dark hair was mussed, his arctic blue eyes unreadable, and half his face was covered in that black mask of his. A jolt of shame straightened her spine and she couldn’t meet his gaze, as if he knew that she had betrayed him by agreeing to free the fae queen.
“Blár … This isn’t the right time,” she whispered, staring down at her toes, which peeked out from the plain, billowy white nightdress she wore. Truthfully, she would rather spend her time continuing to think than talk to him and face her decisions—or lack thereof.
“No,” he said. “I believe it’s the perfect time.”
“Blár—”
He didn’t listen to her and barged inside the room, giving the space a quick sweep before standing in the center of it. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to sneak in here with all those guards posted outside your door? I’m not letting this opportunity slip just because you want to wallow in your own pity.”
Thatsnapped her attention up.
Her eyebrows puckered together and a surge of rage rushed through her body, trembling her fingers. “What did you say?Pity?”
“I can see you’re stressed. And knowing you, you’re probably overthinking, overanalyzing, and feeling sorry for yourself.” He crossed his lean arms over his chest and stared down at her coolly. Even through the mask, she could tell he was scowling.
“I’m not—” She stared off at the curtained window, the words dying on her lips, along with her anger, because that was exactly what she was doing. Overthinking and pitying herself. But she was valid in her concerns. She closed the door to her bedchambers and leaned against it. “I have the weight of so many lives on my shoulders. My decisions affect so many people.”
“You are not solely responsible for the outcome of this war,” he said slowly. “You’re an important piece, as are many of us, but that’s about it.”
“You don’t understand.”
